


If I Dare Drop Back

by UniverseOnHerShoulders



Series: Take Me To The Stars [20]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Investigations, F/F, Police
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-02-27 02:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18730282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseOnHerShoulders/pseuds/UniverseOnHerShoulders
Summary: PC Yasmin Khan is called out to a disturbance. One that involves a horribly familiar blue box.





	If I Dare Drop Back

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> _Would you be down to write a short little Yaz/Clara thing where Yaz has to arrest Clara?_

Yaz isn’t entirely sure why she’s been called out, if she’s honest. Her superior officer had been maddeningly vague when he issued the instructions, and her radio signal is crackly enough at the best of times, so she’s heading towards something-something-something-disturbance-something-something at fifty miles an hour, out on the edge of Sheffield and well out of her comfort zone. She knows she’s supposed to be self-assured and confident; she knows she’s supposed to take on new challenges and be a risk taker, but if she’s honest with herself, she doesn’t know this part of the city as well as she should, and that in itself makes her nervous. She knows her own end of the city –her area, and Ryan’s, and the streets around the city centre. She knows the beat she walked every day when she’d first joined up, and that she still walks now when her superior really wants her to know that she’s messed up. But this area? This is something else. 

It’s an industrial estate, and those make her nervous on principle – travel with the Doctor for long enough and huge metal buildings of anonymous concrete will have that effect on you. She’s got her siren on, and the blue lights, although both seem superfluous – there’s no other vehicles in the vicinity, and something about that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The roads should be populated by… well, anything. This is an industrial area, surely there should be lorries, or vans, or something of that ilk – she’s sure, now, that there was something on the news about this place a while back: complaints from residents about noise or something similar. Lots of old ladies complaining they couldn’t hear the TV; Graham had joked that they should turn up their hearing aids, and the Doctor had looked… well, like the Doctor. Curious and yet neutral, all at once. That had probably meant something significant at the time, but Yaz can’t think about that now.

She turns the siren off, mindful of the old ladies and their noise complaints, and continues on, trying not to let her niggling sense of apprehension overcome her. There’s not even any people around, and that can’t be right either – there should be workers hanging around, bumming cigarettes off each other and staring mistrustfully at her car and her uniform. And yet there’s a conspicuous absence of workers or gawpers or even dodgy businessmen in suits – she knows the sort, wants to tell them that being the Chief Exec of a staff of five doesn’t count – and yet the place is deserted. Definite weirdness going on here, and she wonders whether she ought to phone the Doctor, but there isn’t time, and if her boss thinks that she can’t cope then god knows what he’ll do this time. He can’t exactly demote her, but he can stick her on office duty for a week. She’d nearly gone mad the last time he did that – a week straight of photocopying, until her fingertips had been dusted black with toner and she’d loathed the mere sight of stacks of paper. Never again.

She rounds the corner to the address that had been radioed through, and her car screeches to an incredulous halt. She doesn’t mean it to – she’s supposed to be _careful_ and _measured_ and a load of other bullshit words that the police driving instructor had barked at her all those months ago – but her foot kind of hits the brake and the tyres make a godawful shriek as the car stops. 

There’s a big blue box in front of her. 

A horribly familiar big blue box.

Even more worryingly, the Doctor is stood in front of it, first frowning, and then – as she catches sight of Yaz – breaking into an enormous, child-like grin. 

“It’s Yaz!” she yells, and Clara steps out from behind the TARDIS, giving Yaz a merry little wave as she does so. 

Yaz tries very hard to not return the wave, instead putting on her hat and getting out of the car with as much professionalism as she can muster.

“We’ve received notification of a disturbance coming from this area,” she says as seriously as she can, work mode: on, while the Doctor bounces around her and Clara leans against the TARDIS looking – in her eyes, at least – guilty as sin. About what, Yaz does not know, and she’s not sure she wants to. “Could you please explain, madam?” 

“Why are you calling me ‘madam’, Yaz? That’s posh, isn’t it?” 

“Because I’m a work,” she tells the Doctor in a cool voice, reaching for her notebook and flipping it open, pen hovering over the paper expectantly. “So, an explanation please, madam. Or… other madam.” 

Clara arches an eyebrow, folding her arms and affixing the Doctor with a cool stare. “Do you want to tell her? Or shall I?” 

“Urm,” the Doctor looks abruptly panicked, and that’s enough for Yaz to feel the same way. Anything that makes the Doctor worried is definitely worth worrying about. “So, it turns out that there’s an alien spaceship parked under this industrial estate. Big old thing, been there a while – probably since medieval times. Honestly, who knew that there was so much alien activity in Sheffield? I’ve spent far too long concentrating on London, the rest of your country is _just_ as full of aliens and it’s _brill_ , honestly-”

“Madam.”

“Right, sorry. Anyway, there’s a spaceship under here. And it’s been making the workers act all weirdly, and making a big old noise recently – probably because of some of the roadworks they did last year, must have damaged the external shields – and I reckon the ship’s inhabitants have come out of stasis, and they probably want to go home. Can’t say I blame them, mind – hanging around in suspended animation for centuries is unpleasant. I’ve done it a few times, and it really messes with your head. You end up starving hungry as well, and there’s never a Space McDonald’s nearby when you want one-”

“Doctor.” 

“Right, again, sorry. Short version: spaceship wants to leave. Might involve destroying this whole area. As a Sheffield resident, quick question: are you especially attached to this industrial estate? Does it evoke any particular feelings in you?” 

“Urm,” Yaz blinks a few times, trying to process the barrage of facts. She hasn’t written anything down, and that’s probably for the best. “No, but it might make a lot of people angry. Jobs and things.” 

“If there was a better way of doing this, we’d do it. Unfortunately, there’s not. We can compensate people for their businesses and such – or we can try – but we need to get this spaceship out of here before, well…” 

“Before it blows up,” Clara supplies helpfully. “Which is might do, if it can’t leave.” 

“Right,” Yaz nods as sagely as she can manage. “So, urm, this disturbance…” 

“Oh, Clara broke into a building,” the Doctor shrugs, and Yaz fights the urge to groan. “Thought it might provide us with a way down to the ship. It didn’t.” 

“Right,” Yaz says again. “Have you sort of… found a way down?”

“Oh, yeah,” the Doctor looks to Clara and then back at Yaz. “All sorted, ship is due to depart in… four minutes and thirty-two seconds.” 

“ _What_?!” Yaz yelps. “You’re just going to destroy this industrial estate in four minutes and thirty-two seconds and act like that’s OK?!” 

“Four minutes and twenty-eight seconds now,” the Doctor notes. “Yes. We’ve evacuated the place, don’t worry. Want to come and wait it out in the TARDIS?” 

Yaz gestures to the car parked behind her. “Police resources,” she says vaguely. “And also-”

“PC Khan,” her radio crackles into life, and she bites down on a groan. “Any update on the disturbance? And need I remind you what I said last week about performance?” 

 “I’m uh,” Yaz stammers, holding down the button and scowling darkly at the Doctor as she speaks. “I’m here, just investigating now.” 

“Any sign of the perps?”

“I’ll be making an arrest any minute now,” Yaz barks, then releases the button and stares pleadingly at Clara. “Please can I arrest you?” 

“What for?!” Clara looks equal parts amused and horrified by the notion.

“Breaking into a building,” Yaz shrugs apologetically, feeling genuinely contrite about the situation. “Please, the Doctor can come and get you out the cell straight away, just my boss is on my back about how many arrests I’ve been making. Apparently I’m not hitting my targets.” 

“Fine,” Clara sighs and steps close enough for Yaz to click handcuffs into place around her wrists. “I’m expecting preferential treatment, just so you know.” 

“Clara Oswald,” Yaz begins, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment about having to say the words to her best friend’s girlfriend. “I am arresting you on suspicion of breaking and entering. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

“Right.” 

“You might wanna get a wiggle on,” the Doctor notes from behind them. “We’re down to two minutes.” 

“Right,” Yaz sucks in a deep breath, and opens the back door of her squad car, helping Clara inside and buckling her seatbelt for her. “See you at the station?” 

“See you there,” the Doctor confirms with a nod, then adds: “Be nice to her.” 

“Always am,” Yaz mumbles, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. “Don’t you worry about that.” 

As they drive away, she checks the rear-view mirror every few seconds, watching the TARDIS dematerialise and trying to continue the countdown in her head. As she pulls onto the main road, there’s a muted _pop_ and the entire industrial estate sinks six feet into the ground behind them, then comes to a bizarre, stilted stop. It’s as though a giant has taken a tentative footstep, pressing all evidence of life partway into the ground, and Yaz can’t help but laugh at the strangeness of it all. 

“Wasn’t expecting that,” she admits, and Clara smiles. “Sorry about the handcuffs.” 

“It’s not my first time,” Clara tells her coolly, then tips her a wink. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Yaz makes a concerted effort not to dwell on the connotations of that particular remark as she heads back to the station.

 

* * *

 

“Five hours,” Clara says with bemusement, arching an eyebrow at the Doctor and folding her arms. “Five bloody hours you left me in there for.”

“Short hops are difficult,” the Doctor protests, her cheeks flushing maroon nonetheless. “And besides, Yaz was nice to you, wasn’t she?” 

“Very nice,” Yaz chimes in, practically radiating smugness. “I got her a cup of tea _and_ a biscuit. Two biscuits, in fact. Plus, I didn’t let them put you in the cell that smells like pee. Absolute luxury.”

“Yeah,” Clara mumbles sourly. “Still spent five hours in custody.” 

“It won’t happen again,” the Doctor promises, then notices Clara’s expression. “Not on this planet, anyway.” 


End file.
